I Wrote This Song For You
by lostinthemusic6
Summary: A photo is what brought him there and a promise he made kept him there... but it was her and her music that made him actually want to stay. [AU/NO ZA]
1. if you could only keep me alive

**Chapter One: _if you could only keep me alive_**

...

It was just a picture.

A flimsy piece of paper, really. There were creases from where it had been folded down numerous times and the color was starting to fade but it was still a picture.

A picture of a beautiful woman. Big blue eyes, long blonde hair. If he looked hard enough he could see just the hint of a dusting of freckles along her nose, across her bare shoulders. She was wearing a short, navy blue dress, strapless but you could see the straps of a light blue bathing suit top beneath it - he assumes its a bathing suit, being as the picture was taken at the beach. The woman is smiling in the photo, of course she is, she doesn't have a reason _not_ to smile.

He likes her smile; how it reaches her eyes and the sunlight in the background almost seems pale in comparison. He wonders if she still smiles like that. He knows the news would haven gotten back to her by now. It had been weeks since the photo had been placed in his hand, trusted to him by a man who knew he wouldn't make it home.

 _"Dixon, hey, I need you to do me a favor, alright man?" the voice is shaky and they both know why, know that he has lost too much blood and the rescue team won't get here in time but he can't just accept it, that after everything he still failed._

 _"I have a sister," he starts and Daryl just shakes his head._

 _"Nah man, don't start that shit, we're gonna get ya outta here, you'll see your sister again."_

 _He's lying, they both know it but he can't_ not _lie. He can't not tell this man that he won't ever see his family again. He can't_ not _believe that he was going to lose another one of his men, another one of his friends, his brother._

 _He's tired of losing people._

 _"Humor me," he says, voice still shaky but now slightly pleading, begging, so Daryl lets out a long sigh and jerks a nod before he walks closer, crouches down next to his friend._

 _"Alright Greene, whatta ya need?" he all but mumbles but he's been fighting side by side with Shawn Greene for almost two years now, knows that the man can understand him even if he doesn't speak a word._

 _"My sister, Beth, you 'member me telling you about her?" Shawn asks, wincing as he shifts and Daryl closes his eyes, nods his head._

 _"Yeah, younger one, right? She sings or somethin' like that?"_

 _Shawn nods, smiling despite everything. "Yeah, yeah, she's a music teacher now. Sings at the bar on the weekend, plays guitar, the piano. She's got the prettiest voice man, I ain't ashamed to admit that." Shawn chuckles and Daryl manages to crack a grin. "She's something special, that girl."_

 _There's a loud explosion in the distance and they both fall silent for a moment._

 _Shawn lets out a breathy sigh. "You're a good man, Dixon."_

 _"Stop," he says in reflex and Shawn grins._

 _"Clueless and stubborn obviously, but still good, honorable even," Shawn teases and Daryl rolls his eyes._

 _Shawn goes quiet again and Daryl turns his head from where he had been checking the perimeter, mentally accounting all his men as they huddled down, staying out of sight but prepared to fight at a moments notice, prepared to set off the signal when they hear the thrumming of helicopter blades. Daryl looks down and sees Shawn's eyes are closed, his body still, and Daryl's heart stops._

 _"Greene," he grits out and shakes his shoulder roughly, nearly sighing with relief and not the least bit sorry when Shawn lets out a groan of pain, his eyes flashing back open and Daryl's pulse settles again._

 _"Hmmm?" Shawn grumbles, looking around like he isn't exactly sure how he got here. Daryl can relate._

 _"Hey, ya were tellin' me 'bout you sister. 'Bout Beth. Said ya needed me to do somethin' for ya." Daryl reminds him, gritting his teeth and hoping Shawn doesn't notice._

 _"Right, right, Beth she's somethin' ya know? Sometimes I think maybe she isn't real. Can't be, ya know? Somethin' as good as her can't be real in a world like this." Shawn is whispering, babbling and Daryl clenches his fist, not even wincing when he feels his nails break the skin of his palm._

 _"She's a good girl," Shawn then says and Daryl nods. "Hey, in my front inside pocket, right here, ugh, there."_

 _Shawn is moving and wincing and groaning and Daryl places a hand on his shoulder, steadying him and he points to his chest and Shawn nods so he starts to reach around his vest, digging in the pocket Shawn told him to and he feels the slick of paper and he grasps it, pulling it out and Shawn moans in pain again but Daryl holds his hand out, going to hand him the picture but Shawn just shakes his head._

 _"Nah, 's for you." he mumbles and Daryl furrows his eyebrows. "That's Beth," he says and Daryl barely glances down but he sees the blonde hair, the smile, those eyes, knows that even with that smallest glimpse he is probably holding a picture of one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen._

 _"What am I supposed to do with this, Greene?" Daryl asks, bewildered._

 _Shawn grins and laughs and for a moment, Daryl thinks that this is all pointless because there is no way this is the end for Shawn Greene, no one can smile and laugh like that, not when they are as close to death as they both know he is. But the red staining his uniform, his skin, Daryl's hands, it's too much, too much and it's an honest to God miracle the man is even still talking at this point._

 _"Beth, she, she's somethin'. A fucking firecracker. Stubborn as all hell, isn't afraid to put you in your place and it's funny, 'cause she's really such a tiny thing and you wound'd expect but man, girl's got a mouth on her and I haven't had to worry about her for a long time now. She's tough, my baby sister, but you see, sometimes, I don't think she realizes it. She needs some remindin' sometimes. We've,_ she's _lost a lot and I don't know, don't know how this is gonna affect her, you know?"_

 _Daryl nods his head, minuscule and barely there but he knows what Shawn is gettin' at, what it is Shawn Greene is asking of him. Knows that he can't deny this man - his brother, in all the ways that matter - his last dying wish._

 _"I'll look after her," Daryl whispers, reaching out to clutch Shawn's hand. "I'll take care of her, man, I promise."_

 _"Good. Good." Shawn mumbles, his lips rising in a smile. "You're a hell of a man, Daryl Dixon. Really._ Thank you _."_

 _Daryl just nods, wants to say something but like usual his words get lost in his throat, lost in the tears that he can feel forming in his eyes. He clutches the picture to his chest as his grip tightens on Shawn's hand. There's shouting in the distance now, a flare popping and Daryl hears the familiar humming of helicopter blades but he bows his head, letting a sob escape him as Shawn Greene's eyes close for the last time. They were too late._

"Sir?"

Daryl jumps, startled and he unconsciously reaches for a weapon he knows isn't there anymore.

"Sir?"

He looks up then, remembering where he is, sees the taxi driver looking at him with confusion, maybe even some concern.

"What?" Daryl asks, clearing his throat after hearing how rough his voice is, rougher than usual.

"You alright?" the man asks and Daryl just gives a jerky nod in return and the man sighs but glances out the windshield, nodding his head for Daryl to do the same and he ducks down to take a look. "This the right place?"

Daryl is quiet for a moment, wondering himself if this is the right place. He glances around, noting that there is nothing but road and trees beside them, all except for this gravel driveway the taxi is parked in front of, a gate swung open and a sign advertising eggs for sale perched in the lawn and he can feel the driver looking back at him and for just a moment Daryl thinks about telling him to turn around, that maybe he did have the wrong address but then he catches sight of a mailbox, just a few feet away, and nearly obscured by a low hanging branch.

He reads the name on the side and takes in a deep breath, feels his fingers flex against the photo in his hand, the photo he hand been holding on to like a lifeline since he landed at the airport that morning.

"This is it," Daryl finally confirms, his voice gruff and the man nods his head.

"Want me to drive up?" he asks but Daryl is shaking his head, already pulling open the door and beginning to climb out.

The man pops the truck and Daryl grabs his bag, a sad excuse of a suitcase but he didn't leave this place with much and he sure as hell didn't return with nothing either. A couple change of clothes, a book, nothing that holds any real value but that was kind of the reason he had gotten on that plane in the first place, taking him overseas and joining a war he wasn't sure was even worth fighting for anymore.

He has something now though. He has a picture. So he walks around to the front of the cab, tries to give the cabbie some money but the man refuses, says he doesn't take money from soldiers and Daryl isn't sure how the man knows, because he had changed out of his uniform before he even left the airport but he decides to ignore it, offering a gruff thanks before the man sticks his hand out, giving him a shake and a thank you of his own before he drives off and Daryl is left standing at the end of the this long driveway, a picture clutched to his chest and a mailbox with the name _Greene_ just to his left.

It's just a picture, just a piece of paper that is crumpled and beginning to fray. It's just a picture but it's the woman in that picture that has him walking down the drive, gravel crunching under his boots because it's _not_ just a picture.

It's a promise, and he intends to keep it.

...

* * *

 **My writer's block finally allowed me to write something and uh...yeah. idk. This is sort of a test I guess, seeing if anyone would be interested...a bit of a twist on a common plot...maybe...idk. again. Please leave me a review, let me know if you would like this to continue...**

 **Title taken from _The Dangerous Summer: "I Would Stay"_**


	2. my heart is gold and my hands are cold

**I know it's been a while and I am truly sorry. Hopefully you all still remember this one.**

* * *

 ** _._**

 **Chapter Two: _my heart is gold and my hands are cold_**

...

He pauses when the house comes into view, big and white with a porch wrapped around the front, an antique looking swing just beside the front door. There's a large red barn a little ways across the lawn and he remembers a few times when Shawn would talk about home - talked about how much land they had - but Daryl never really pictured it. He remembers a night about a year ago - they had just lost another brother - and Daryl and Shawn had stayed up late that night, both having trouble sleeping and Shawn had got to talking about the farm, how some days he really missed it and how he felt bad now, leaving his baby sister there, alone and responsible for all the work while working her own job on top of it.

That was one of the first nights Daryl thinks Shawn had ever talked about Beth.

Standing here now, the house just a few feet away from him, Daryl realizes just how thoroughly _un_ thoughtout this whole plan was. What was he supposed to do now? He had gotten it in his head that as soon as he was relieved from duty he would be coming here, making good on his promise, and he was able to get the address with hardly any problems and he knew it was fairly close to Rick's place - that was how him and Shawn had become such good friends, along with fighting side by side, they realized they had both grown up only a few towns away from each other and they both knew Rick Grimes (Shawn because Rick and Hershel had been good friends and Daryl because of all the times Merle had been thrown in the slammer since Grimes had become Sheriff.)

All Daryl heard though was himself promising Shawn Greene that he would be taking care of his baby sister for him, looking after her. So it made sense for him to be headed here right off the plane, all his belongings in the bag strapped over his shoulder. He knew he would be coming here but he never actually planned for what would happen once he actually _got_ here. What the hell was he even supposed to tell this girl? What if she didn't even want him around, didn't want a reminder of her brother. Daryl has no clue if Beth even knows he _exists_ , doesn't know if Shawn mentioned him at all and now that he thinks about, why would he? Daryl is nothing to this girl but a stranger who was with her brother when he died, who made a promise to him to look after her, one she probably has no fucking clue was ever made.

His tumultuous thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a dog barking and Daryl pauses, looks up to see the animal on the porch, standing from where it must have been laying before it caught sight of his approach. He starts walking again, slowly, and keeps a close eye on the dog, trying to determine if it's a threat. He quickly comes to the conclusion that the animal is harmless though, making no attempt to stand its ground as it stands there on the top step of the porch, tail wagging and obnoxiously barking. It's a mangy looking mutt, fur white but stained from dirt and age and as Daryl gets closer he realizes the thing only has one eye.

"Meaty! Knock it off!"

The dog instantly quiets and Daryl turns to the sound of the feminine voice, seeing Beth coming over from where he assumes she had been in the barn and Daryl can't even help the way his breath hitches in his throat.

He has a picture. A picture that was given to him by his fallen brother, on his last breath. It was a picture laced with a promise and that picture has been kept close to him since the moment it was given to him. Sometimes, when things got real bad those last weeks, or when there was a close call, one that was often pointed out with the words, " _Man Dixon, you must have a guardian angel lookin' out for you or somethin',_ " he would pull out that photo that he had tucked away safely in his front pocket, close to his heart, and he would look down at the blonde haired woman with a brilliant smile and he couldn't help but wonder if Shawn Greene had given him more than just a photo.

He knew it was a ridiculous thought because Shawn had been carrying that photo with him for who knows how long and it hadn't exactly helped him, but some nights, when the nightmares were too much or the noise too loud, when sleep was much too far out of his reach he would pull out that photo and just stare. Daryl Dixon didn't have much in this world and that was part of the reason he joined the service to begin with - no one would really miss him when he was gone - but Shawn Greene, he had someone, and in the end, he had trusted Daryl to take care of her. Beth Greene didn't know it, but she was the reason he survived these last few weeks, she was the light at the end of his dark and exploding tunnel.

He has a picture of her, has had it for a while now but standing here, he can't help but note that that picture hasn't got shit on the real thing.

"Oh!"

He sees the moment that Beth has finally noticed him and she pauses slightly, seeming to take in his appearance and the bag slung over his shoulder. She's carrying a basket of what looks like folded blankets and he figures that she must have just gotten the laundry down from the line. A look of confusion flashes across her face before she starts to move again, coming closer and she suddenly smiles, bright and wide and Daryl can't help but take in another sharp breath, swallowing roughly as he shifts on his feet.

"Hi! I didn't even notice ya there," she says and comes to a stop in front of him, shifting the basket to rest on her hip. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come by today...but you picked a good day because Mrs. Horvath will be comin' by in the mornin' and most likely takin' all my eggs like she did last week. No idea what on earth the woman does with all those eggs but she..." she trails off suddenly, biting her lip and Daryl can't help but notice the pretty pink blush beginning to paint her cheeks. "And I've never seen you around before which means you probably have no idea who Mrs. Horvath is or what I'm talkin' about and now I feel mighty silly."

She clears her throat and gives a small laugh before she holds a hand out, still balancing that basket on her hip. "I'm Beth, Beth Greene, this here is my family's farm but it's just me now," he notices a small flash of pain in her eyes before she quickly covers it. "Is there somethin' I can help you with? Something tells me you ain't here for eggs."

She gives him another smile, looking around pointedly and Daryl realizes that she is probably looking for a vehicle of some sort, something to explain why he is suddenly now on her farm and staring at her like some creep. He finally pulls himself together enough to stick his own hand out, placing it against hers and he has to hold back a flinch of surprise when she tightens her grip on him, giving him a firm shake and he notes that she already is stronger than she looks but, her skin is also much softer than he thought and that is a thought he quickly pushes away.

"Daryl," he mutters out, his voice rougher than normal and he clears his throat awkwardly, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Daryl Dixon."

He sees a moment of what seems to be surprise or recognition in her eyes, like maybe she has heard that name before but can't place it and he can't help but wonder if Shawn ever did mention him before.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Dixon, what can I do for you?" she's smiling again and Daryl is trying to figure out just how to explain why he is here and it isn't until he sees the movement in the corner of his eye - that dog once again lying down on the porch - that he suddenly has words coming out of his mouth.

"Your dog's named _Meaty_?"

 _Daryl Dixon, master of smooth._

She laughs though, a beautiful musical giggle and it doesn't matter if he feels like an idiot or that he can feel the back of his neck warm under his embarrassment because if it meant he got to hear _that_ wonderful noise, he would say it all over again.

"Sorry," she says, still laughing slightly and waving her hand at him, adjusting her hold on the basket still perched on her hip. "Yes, actually, one of my students named 'im. Just kind of stuck I guess. And if we're really bein' honest, Meaty is short for _Meatloaf._ "

He nods then, his lips twitching just slightly with amusement and for a moment, they are both quiet, both looking at the other and then the wind blows, a strong gust that seems to shift the world around them - the trees bend and their leaves rustle, there's a creak of metal coming from somewhere near the barn and then there is the musical tinkling of a wind chime coming from the porch - and while he is momentarily distracted by the way her hair fans across her face he doesn't realize her eyes have fallen toward his chest, where his shirt is billowing in the breeze and it isn't until he hears that small clink of metal that he knows what she is staring at. And suddenly, the cabbie refusing his fare makes sense as he looks down, sees his dog tags dangling there against the dark fabric, instead of them being tucked away, hidden against his skin like they usually are. He tries to remember back at the airport, when he was changing and he doesn't know how they got where they are but it's too late now because she is still staring at them.

She takes in a quick breath and he can't describe the next moment any better than actually watching the woman in front of him seeming to visibly deflate. Her shoulders slump, her chin falls and the basket on her hip slips from her grip, causing a small thud when it hits the ground at their feet. He suddenly sees what he had foolishly overlooked when he was memorized by finally seeing the woman in his photo brought to life. She looks _exhausted_. There are dark circles beneath her eyes and while there is still a small smile on her lips he can see just how hard it is for her to keep it there.

She looks around again, seems to remember that there is no vehicle and how he seemed to just appear from no where.

"Can I help you with somethin'?" she asks again, her voice not mean but with an edge, like she is afraid of the answer, and he can only imagine the last time someone with dog tags showed up at her door.

He clears his throat, once again wondering just how to explain how and why he was here but he suddenly remembers the photo, the photo he is still holding in his hand, his fingers clutching at the slip of paper like the lifeline it had become for him. He shifts on his feet before he takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and then he lifts his arm, holding the photo out to her and he sees her brow flutter, her confusion clear but she reaches out her own hand and Daryl notes the slight shake of her fingers with a frown and when she pulls the photo from his own fingers, brushing his skin with hers in the process, he almost gasps.

He watches as she looks down at the photo, her eyes widening before she looks back up at him, her shock evident and he's wondering if he is only imagining the fear in her eyes.

"This is-" she stammers, shaking her head and looking between the photo and him again, like she truly can't believe what she is looking at. "How? Where did you get this?"

He clears his throat _again_ , awkwardly, and without having any clue how to explain it any other way, he just blurts it out.

"I was a friend of Shawn's," he starts, watching her reaction carefully. "I was with him when he, when he..." He trails off, clears his throat once again, mentally cringing as he realizes just how many times he has done that since he got here.

He doesn't have any clue how to continue and even if he did, she doesn't give him the chance. You would think with everything he has been through, his shitty childhood and then spending the last six years being shot at and under attack that he would have been prepared when she suddenly launches herself at him and her arms are wrapped around him before he even fully realizes what is happening. She squeezes him, her strength surprising him once again as he stands there, momentarily stunned as she all but buries her face in his chest.

Her hair is tickling his chin and his arms rise at their own accord, his body thawing slowly and he places his hands gingerly on her body, one resting on her hip, the other coming to cup her elbow and it isn't until he recognizes the sweet smell of strawberries that he has realized he is leaning down into her, his face buried in her hair. He should pull away, should be questioning just what it is he is doing here but he doesn't, instead letting his arms fully circle her, pulling her closer against him and he really, truly, honestly can't explain it, but, standing here in the middle of this yard, hugging this slip of a woman that he barely knows, the sister of his fallen brother and who's photo he had been carrying around like a prayer, he feels the _safest_ he has ever felt in his entire life.

...

* * *

 **I've been thinking about my stories a lot lately and for some reason, I keep coming back to this one so I've decided to give it another chance. Just a fair warning, I have a very hectic schedule right now so unfortunately, updates probably will not be consistent but I am going to try. And please, just take a moment to give me a short review, let me know what you guys think, what you want to see and hope will happen - it truly does motivate me to get updates out a lot faster - and sometimes give me ideas on how to continue the story.**

 **I've missed you all and hopefully I'll be talking to you all again real soon :)**

 ***Chapter title take from _Halsey: "Gasoline"_**


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